


No Feelings

by amel



Category: Bandom, Real Person Fiction, Sex Pistols (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amel/pseuds/amel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just wanted to write something. It's been a year since I did. Please excuse any grammatical errors. I don't have a beta reader and I literally just wrote this 5 minutes ago.<br/>Quite cheesy and might be a bit out of character but I'm just feeling the rainy Sunday evening.<br/>Enjoy! (?)</p>
    </blockquote>





	No Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to write something. It's been a year since I did. Please excuse any grammatical errors. I don't have a beta reader and I literally just wrote this 5 minutes ago.  
> Quite cheesy and might be a bit out of character but I'm just feeling the rainy Sunday evening.  
> Enjoy! (?)

His bruised lips grazed your neck.

You could feel his breath, hot and heavy in the crook of your neck.  
His calloused hands drifted from your bare waist down to your thigh.  
His thumb stroking tenderly as if you were a fragile little porcelain doll.  
You combed your fingers through his hair and buried your nose in it.

He smelled like cigarettes.

Slowly he dragged his lips to your ears,  
and then to your cheek,  
and then the corner of your mouth,  
and finally captured your lips in a vicious kiss.  
It fit him more than the gentle petting he exhibited awhile ago.

He tasted like alcohol.

You kissed back just as passionately, running your hands down his chest.  
You pushed him off and straddled him, burying your face in the crook of his neck just as he did.  
You licked the love bite you may or may not have given him.  
He groaned and whispered something in a raspy voice.

He sounded like a lost boy.

You grabbed his shirt, torn and bloodied, and pulled it off of him.  
His chest was scarred with self-inflicted wounds and you ran your fingers over them.  
What a curious little thing.  
He grabbed your wrists and you gazed at his face, his eyes drawing you in.

He looked like a bloody mess.

You tugged your hands away from his hold on you.  
He let go.  
You wrapped your hands around his neck and you pulled him in for another rough kiss.  
He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as he entered you.

He felt like home.


End file.
